I'm With The Band
by shermitkermit
Summary: A dodgy club in the rough end of town might just be the start to an exciting adventure...
1. Chapter 1

You feel slightly unnerved. You are in a somewhat remote club that you have never been to before. It's located in the dodgy end of town and it took you some time to safely enter the building – you had to keep turning corners in order to avoid creepy looking old guys in sleeping bags. They were probably no threat to you, but all the same, this wasn't your territory, and nothing was familiar to you at all.

The room is filled with slightly stoned looking people fist pumping in unison even though the music hasn't started yet, you edge over to the bar and sit on one of the many seats available. Everyone is stood by the stage, waiting for the band to come on. You look at your watch, you're almost half hour late. Could he of already been and gone? Surely not.

"What'll it be love?" a rough voice asks. You turn to see a tall, dopey looking bald man with a tattoo on his forehead. You struggle to make out what it says without looking too suspicious, so you simply glance at the selection of drinks behind him instead. "Malibu and coke, please," you reply. The barman gives you a knowing look, almost as if he's expecting you to own up and order a lemonade. But then the moment's gone and he turns to pour you a drink. That was one thing you kind of liked about this place, the way no one seemed to judge you on how old you were. Not once had you been made to feel prejudiced against because of your age. Then again, that could just be the four inches of make-up you had caked on in order to look older.. or the fact that you haven't actually spoken to anyone yet, bar the barman.

"'Ere you go m'love," placing your drink on the coaster infront of you the barman gives you a wink. Gross. You think. Nevertheless, you pay him and proceed to search the room with your eyes. The guy you were supposed to be meeting was nowhere in sight. Wanker. You thought. You'd give him five minutes. If he hadn't turned up by then you would leave. Glancing at the alcohol-stained, corner-torn poster on the wall you think you might as well check out the night life while you're here. The poster reads: **'PLAYING TONIGHT: TERMINAL MARGARET' **the barman sees you squinting trying to make out the description and interrupts your reading. "Shit band." He grunts. "Lead singer's a nob. Drummers a nob. Bassist went to school with my cousin. 'E gave her an STI." A grin spreads across your face and you snort with laughter. The barman gives you the eye and you quickly disguise your outburst with a cough. He's probably right, the name was a bit crap, and this wasn't exactly the kind of place award-winning artists performed. All the same, something about the black and white photo of the band underneath it intrigues you. Almost as if you have seen them before. You take a sip of your drink and avert your eyes back to the stage. The room isn't small but small enough so that you can make out the odd facial features of the guy that has just walked onstage. He has beady eyes and a slightly upturned nose. He taps the microphone and announces that this Terminal Margaret band are about to come onstage. And as promised an oddly kind of handsome looking guy with tousled black hair and sparkly boots walks onstage followed by a small group of boring looking punk types who all have weird trousers on. With a quick nod and a few exchanged high fives with the audience the band start playing.

"Told you." The barman was right. They were a pretty shocking band. Except for the sparkly boots guy. He's the main singer and you find him strangely fascinating. You tear your eyes away from his chiselled face for long enough to realise he is wearing red leather trousers and a black fur coat. A combination which shouldn't work, on anyone. But he manages to pull it off.

They play a few songs which all sound the same –for all you know it could just be one long song- and get a few drinks thrown at them before rounding it off with a still similarly sounding, but slower song about a a man with seven goats. You're weirdly starting to get into this now, you even start mouthing some of the chorus, and for a second you think you feel the singer lock eyes with you. But then the bassist starts a riot and they get booed off the stage. "Thank you, Terminal Margaret." The beady eye man says awkwardly. You realise it's been longer than five minutes and glance at your watch. Fuck. It's been two hours. Your mum must be going mental. You calm yourself, you told her you were staying round your friend's. She'll be none the wiser. All the same, you better get going. The still stoned, now angry mob are starting to leave and pretty soon it'll be mayhem outside. You go to grab your leather jacket but you just feel air. You could of sworn you'd left it on the back of the stool. Ah well, it'll be at home. You're probably tired. You can see it now, on your bed all ready to be worn. You gulp the remaining trickle of Malibu and coke and slam the glass down a little too hard. Standing up you feel slightly light headed. You shrug it off and tell yourself to stop being such a lightweight. Making your way across the now foul-smelling room everything starts to spin. You feel your stomach churn and make a mad dash for the bathrooms. But you don't know where they are, and end up running out the back door into an alleyway. You lean against the wall to steady yourself, but it's useless. Your legs quiver uncontrollably and you vomit onto the floor for what seems like hours. And then you pass out.


	2. Chapter 2

You're awoken by someone shaking you. "Wake up!" a familiar voice says urgently. You refuse to open your eyes until your mother has brought you up some breakfast and a cup of tea. "Five more minutes," you mumble and begin to drift off back into unconsciousness. "You've got to wake up now, come on!" the owner of the voice is shaking you gently but their grip increases slightly. It dawns on you that it is not your mother's voice and you open your eyes. Instead of your bedroom you see a deserted alleyway. Well, except for one other person.

You look up and realise, still half asleep, why you recognised the voice. It belonged to the lead singer of the band you had been watching less than an hour ago. At least, you thought it was less than an hour ago. You are more awake now, and curious to find out what is going on.

"H- how long have I been asleep?" you ask the singer, who is still dressed in his fur coat and leather trousers. His sparkly boots still glitter and catch your eye even though it's almost pitch black. The only light is that of a flickering street lamp coming from the other side of the alley wall.

"Long enough," he replied, "come on get up, we need to go. I'll explain more in a minute," he holds out hit hand to help you up. You take it graciously but you're still a bit dizzy. You stumble and pull him down with you, causing you to both collapse in a heap on the floor. "Oh my god I'm so sorry!" you cry, turning to check if he's ok. But his head is cocked to one side and his eyes are closed. He must of hit his head on the wall. "Shit!" you exclaim as you try to check his pulse. You put your fingers to his neck like they showed you in health class. Your fingers are a millimetre away from his skin when "AAAAAAAARGGHHH!" his eyes shoot open and he jolts forward, frightening you out of your skin. He erupts into laughter, "your face!" he cries hysterically.

You are not amused.

"I thought you were supposed to be in a hurry," you raise your eyebrows.

"You're right, you're right I'm sorry," he calms himself down and gives you an apologetic smile, your eyes meet his and you are reminded of when the same thing happened in the club. You notice he has beautiful blue eyes like the sky on a cloudless summers day. Suddenly a light is turned on behind you and you both jump. You turn to see the club door you remember falling out of earlier. The sound of a key being turned in the lock can be heard from he other side. Someone's coming out, and you don't want to stick around and find out who.

"Quick!" Sparkly boots guy grabs your arm and pulls you down the alley and round a corner just as you hear the door creak open. You hear footsteps shuffling towards you. Big footsteps. Presumably belonging to a big man that probably wants to kill you. He can sense you starting to panic and presses you against the wall, he clasps his hand over your mouth to stop you making a noise. You can't move, and if you're honest, you don't really want to. You're in the perfect position to figure this guy out.

His hair is jet black and quite long, but in very good condition, like a high maintenance caveman. Just above the collar of his fur coat there is a small patch of his bare chest showing, it's extremely pale just like his face and hands, and probably the rest of his body too. He is tall but not a giant, his height is probably helped by the four inch heels on his sparkly boots which come up to halfway between his ankles and his knees. You're close enough to smell the hairspray he obviously drowns his hair in, but it isn't an overpowering smell. More of a mild, musky smell. It's quite fruity, and reminds you of an orange tree in your garden at home. The footsteps are less than a foot away from you now and you close your eyes tight, wishing whoever this person was would just show themselves and get it over with.

But then they stop.

You can hear the person breathing around the corner. Your heart is racing like a horse in the grand national, you suspect Sparkly boots guy can hear it. He's staring at the corner, waiting. Ready to pounce on anyone that appears. They pause for a minute and Sparkly boots guy looks confused. Then you both hear the sound of him exhaling before seeing a small cloud of smoke drift up into the sky. A cigarette can be heard being dropped on the floor and the footsteps recede back to the door. You hear a slam as it shuts and both let out huge sighs.

"Phew," Sparkly boots guy says as he removes his hand from your face. Never before have you been as thankful to breath as you are now. "Sorry about that," he says, "couldn't 'ave you blowing our cover though."

"Oh I almost forgot, is this yours?" He rummages inside his fur coat before pulling out your jacket. There it is! "How did you…"

"Fell on the floor when you were sat at the bar. I saw you sat all on your own when I was on stage so I thought I'd come over after we'd finished the set and buy you a drink. By the time I'd came over you'd gone and left it on the floor," he explains.

"How did you find me out here?"

"The barman told me, you know the one with the tattoo of a can of coke on his forehead?"

Oh, so that's what it was.

"He told me you'd just left, and I couldn't see you out the front anywhere so I had a look out here and there you were, chuckin' up on the floor,"

Great. The first attractive guy you see in God knows how long and you throw up infront of him. Nice.

"I couldn't just leave you out here all alone, so I sat with you, held your hair back 'n everyfing, don't you remember?"

You only vaguely remember being sick, let alone who held back your hair.

"Wow, sorry I put you through that,"

"Christ, you really were out of it. It's alright, I thought you might have had a friend with you or something but no one else was around, did you come here on your own?"

"I was _supposed_ to be meeting someone…"

"Oh right," he says pitifully, "he didn't show?"

You shake your head, in a way your glad, if he had shown up you'd never of met… you realise you should probably ask his name.

"Thanks for staying with me anyway um…"

"Vince."

"Vince," you repeat, "I should be getting home now though," your parents think your staying round your friends, but nevertheless you should probably get indoors somewhere.

"Sure," Vince nods, "do you want me to walk you home? Pretty young girl like you don't want to be walkin' round town at night. Lotta weirdos about," his eyes point to the drunk guy in a top hat that had just staggered past with a cane, muttering something about eels and polos.

You can't help but smile at the fact he just called you pretty and agree to let him walk you home.

As he walks you through town he notices you shivering and takes off his now iconic fur coat and wraps it round you. It smells of him, the musky orangey smell. You pull it up so that you can smell it as you walk along, also to hide your constant grin. You wish your friends could see you now, getting walked home by the gorgeous lead singer of a band.

As you are walking down the main road, one road away from your house, it occurs to you that it is awfully quiet. Nobody expects a lot of life at around three in the morning admittedly, but it was completely deserted. You get the feeling someone is watching you, and suspect Vince may of noticed it too, as he keeps looking around suspiciously. But no one can be seen. The road is lit quite broadly by the streetlamps, so if anybody was following you, you would be able to see them.

"Grab my arm," Vince whispers. You don't have to be told twice, it's reassuring having someone to hold on to. But your reassurance doesn't last long.

"Don't look," he says calmly, "but there's a man over there on that bench, outside the pub, watching us,"

Out of the corner of your eye you can see him, he's bald like the barman, and has some sort of tattoo on his forehead, although it's far from a can of coke and appears to descend down his face. This man is tall, and wearing a long coat, his eyes are hardly visible from the other side of the road. Although if they were, something told you they were probably watching you.


	3. Chapter 3

You get to your road and stop, if by any chance your mother is still awake, it won't look good coming home with a man considerably older than you, no matter how safe he made you feel. Your mother would hit the roof.

"I'm ok from here," you tell Vince, "this is my road."

"You sure?" He asks, his big blue eyes meeting yours. He looked kind of sad for you to leave. You were kind of sad to leave him. But you have to.

"Yeah, thanks for… everything," you say gratefully.

"well I couldn't of just left you in that alley," he grins, "well, I could of, but that would have been well selfish,"

You both laugh and that moment happens again, where your eyes meet, but you brush it of and hold out your hand. He shakes it before pulling you into a hug. You close your eyes as you breath in his smell once again; the musky, fruity smell that reminds you of the tree in your garden. You almost consider asking him if you'll see him again, but you don't want to appear too forward. After all, he is quite a bit older than you. He probably has a girlfriend. You wonder what she looks like.

_Is she pretty? Prettier than you? Forget it, why would he ever want you?_

Your thoughts are interrupted as you realise you've been hugging for a little too long. You tear yourself away and mumble something about you getting home. He understands and gives you a nod. "Thanks," you say again, before turning and proceeding to trek up your road. You give it a few seconds before taking a sneaky look behind you, but Vince is gone. You swear you hear him shout something to you, but that's probably just wishful thinking. After all, what are the chances of you ever seeing that guy again?

However one thing did stick in your mind, and that was the bald man. No not the barman, the other one. The bench one. The staring one. At that moment you hear footsteps approaching you and quicken your pace. They speed up too. Why did you tell Vince you'd be ok? You break into a run and reach your house just as you hear the footsteps catching up with you. Without even looking back you fumble in your pocket for your keys, let yourself in and slam the door behind you. You suddenly realise the time. The clock in your hallway says 4am.

"Is that you home love?" Shit. You quickly slip off your shoes off and your slippers –conveniently placed by the door- on.

"What?" You say innocently, "oh. No I've been home for ages. The cat was meowing so I thought I'd let him out, go back to bed mum."

Your mum sleepily wanders back to her room. Phew. You hurry upstairs and peek through your bedroom curtains. Nobody is outside. You shake your head and sigh, You're so tired, You were probably just hearing things.

As you're getting undressed for bed you feel something drop on your foot. Bending down to pick it up you realise it's a business card. It must of fallen out of your jacket pocket. It's for a shop called 'Nabootique', you don't remember ever going to such a shop.

…Unless someone slipped it in your pocket.

You remember losing your jacket, or at least, thinking you'd lost it, last night. You remember Vince giving it back to you. What if he had put the business card in there, thinking you would discover it and go to the shop. Maybe he worked there?

But what if someone else had slipped it in there. What if the creepy barman had slipped it in hoping you would go there. Maybe it's some sort of brothel?

You don't know what to do. But you'll ponder it some more tomorrow. For now you need to get some sleep.


End file.
